Garrosh's Reign
by Fonset
Summary: Behind the smokes from the fires of Deathwing the Worldbreaker, the Horde is trying to conquer most of Azeroth under their new Warchief: Garrosh Hellscream. The ones who seek to preserve their world as it is cannot afford to be sidetracked by the activities of the Horde, at least not for now.
1. Prologue

.

**Garrosh's Reign**

Prologue

_Disclaimer: The only ones able to extinguish the fires of Hellscream are those who work at Blizzard. They will freeze the blood in your veins! (They also happen to own most of my story elements and most of the characters in it, ain't that fun?! :3 )_

_A/N: the title of this fanfiction used to be 'Garrosh's Lok'amon', lok'amon being a traditional orcish song such about starting a family. But I realized that was not really what my fanfiction was about (my first writing of this had a lot more focus on Garrosh's life before TBC) and barely even the subject of the sub-plot in general anymore._

_As I was unstatisfied with my previous version of this story, I've tried a different approach. This is my first time writing anything in the likes of this. I'm not even sure if I've rated it with M rightfully so._

_I hope it turned out well this time, so that I may continue writing this. (Passion project, you see. ^-^)_

* * *

Garrosh looked around himself, his face showing a grim expression. Around him, he saw other orcs and even a few trolls, tauren, blood elves and undead here and there. It made him frown, he could not see why the Mag'har clan would even alow them to attend the ceremony. It was held for the victims of the war against the scourge, more than obviously for orc victims, as it took place in Nagrand. Most had already been cremated near Oshu'gun so that their spirits could rest among the others in the symbolic rock wholly made up of diamond, and Garrosh had now made his return to Garadar along with a few others. Despite his victory over the scourge army of the Lich King, he did not have much to celebrate at this time. It was a time to remember the sacrifices of fallen brothers and sisters, to honour them in every way for their courage and might and the fight they had given.

The sun still shone, if only faintly, this time of day. A few hours more, and it would make room for another moon and a more dark setting. A few heads turned as Garrosh walked by a log where some other orcs of the Mag'har clan were resting. He gave them a faint smile, and the one in the middle nodded his head. Garrosh knew they were the farseers of Garadar. He had great respect for them and what they had done for him and others. They had been present when Thrall had shown Garrosh his father for whom he really was, and just as they did then, they smiled at him widely. Garrosh almost forgot he had been gone from this place for so long, and why he had returned to it now.. He had now past the shamans, and turned his empty gaze back in front of him.

As he strode past a few of the old huts, memories from his childhood came rushing to him in great numbers. He still felt a desire to celebrate the Horde's victory over the Scourge, but the circumstances prevented him from doing anything of the sort. He stopped walking to lift his father's axe in front of him, and slowly he ran his fingers along its blade, thinking of the demon it and his father had destroyed. He had hoped he would have been the one to strike down the Lich King with it himself, so he could live up to his father's legacy. But alas, it had not been so. But Garrosh knew his time would come eventually, he would make his father proud had he still been here. "Likely, I already have." he mused, thinking of the Warsong Offensive he had lead in Northrend, a great enemy had been defeated in a climate much more dire than most had been used to.

He strode along aimlessly, not really knowing what to make of the situation. He had not been able to find much souls to talk to. Or actually he had, but they had been too saddenend by the deaths of their brothers and sisters in arms to be of much interest to him. Even the proud war veteran Varok Saurfang was in mourning of his lost son, a son Garrosh had known rather well in life. It had saddenend Garrosh as well, that much had been clear. But he had been able to overcome it with ease, or so it seemed to himself. When he felt two hands suddenly clasp around his shoulders, since he wore no armor at that time, he had almost been too distracted to do anything about it. They tugged him into the shadows between two huts build fairly close to one another, leaving a passage only about 5 foot wide. As he had already tugged Gorehowl back underneath his leather belt, strangling his attacker would be the more obvious choice. As he began stretching his arms out to cease his attacker by the throat, he stared right into the face of Sheyla.

Of course she would distance herself from the others now. She wouldn't like to be seen around while she was crying. She was too proud to do such a thing, and probably waited for someone to come by she felt she could talk to. Then Garrosh realized that wouldn't make a lot of sense, as they had barely talked before. They did know eachother, but were acquainted at best. Garrosh had absolutely no idea what to do in this situation, so he decided to wait for her to speak to him.

"Garrosh, I-" She stopped to swallow, as her voice was shaking slightly. Then she merely clasped his arm, staring at him for a minute. Garrosh had begun to feel increasingly uncomfortable. Was she expecting him to comfort her? What would he even say to her? As if his body now acted on its own, he placed his hand on hers, still clasping his arm, now tightning her grip ever so slightly.

Garrosh then sighed. "Why are you-" he began, but was stopped by Sheyla's sudden action. She jumped to embrace him tightly, Garrosh again not knowing what to do patted her back in response. As they simply stood there for a while, Garrosh begun running is fingers through her long, dark purple hair, almost brown. He remembered that she usually wore a few braids in it, but now it was all loose. He caught himself even smelling her hair for reasons unknown to him. As Sheyla noticed what he was doing, she violently shoved him back, making him stumble. Garrosh looked at her as if she was a rotting carcass, feeling insulted by her sudden hostility. "I thought you wanted comfort." he rumbled.

"I do." she simply said, grabbing him by the leather chestpiece he wore and pulling him towards her. Garrosh froze as he felt her softly biting his lower lip. He had never experienced anything like this. It was all so strange and yet.. he enjoyed it somehow. Her hands still clasped tightly around the leather, Garrosh moved to run his hands through her hair again. He could not believe how soft it was, not even close to the mess he was used to seeing the hair of other orcs being, including his own. His left hand went to touch her face. As he gently brushed her cheek, he felt her starting to bite his lip even harder. He swore he tasted blood in his mouth, but all that was soon all gone as they both kissed eachother more gently, tasting the sweetness of eachothers lips and tusks. Garrosh grinned softly, enjoying every last bit of it and becoming one with the moment.

He was afraid she would stop doing what she did anytime, but instead Sheyla started holding him in her own embrace, running her hands up and down his back. He copied what she was doing to him and ran his hands along her back as well. He came dangerously close to her bottom now, the thought exiting him and giving him an even stranger feeling than what he had felt before. Longing to touch more of her, he grasped her butt cheeks in both of his hands and awaited her response.

It was more than he could have ever hoped for, as she was undoing the straps of his leather wear and baring his chest, carelessly throwing the thing onto the earth. He had no idea what she was doing, but he felt a desire to do the same to her clothes as she undid a few pieces of jewelry from him decorated with remains of his previous kills, including his first. He felt the fabric of her shamanic tunic and searched for a way to remove it from her body. Still locked tightly in their kiss, Garrosh had a difficult time removing the thing. He felt her lips curve into a grin as she clasped his hands and moved them to her hips, where Garrosh could make out a belt and the straps he had been searching for earlier. As he worked his way around the unability to see what he was doing and barely being able to concentrate due to his exitement, he felt her carefully undoing his belt and lifting Gorehowl to softly put it against a wall, hearing the familiar sound of the shaft touching the wall. Her hands returned to his back at once after she was done with the weapon.

Garrosh felt his trousers now starting to fail to serve the purpose for which they were designed, slowly lowering themselves down his legs. He did not know what would happen next, but he had a rough idea of what to expect. He had heard plenty of stories from older orcs in regards to having so called 'intercourse', and what his mind was telling him to do seemed very similar to it. His hands had become sweaty and he started to shake slightly. He put all his effort into preventing Sheyla from noticing it, but it seemed like she had anyway. She broke their kiss and seemed to wait for him to look at her. As he stared right into her orange eyes, it looked like they were twinkling with amusement. She took a small step back and moved her hands to the straps Garrosh had failed to undoing before. She carefully undid them, and let her tunic drop past her body, revealing most of herself to him now. Garrosh was rather dissapointed he could not see her entire shape yet, as she still wore a silk shirt which had seen better days. Through one of the holes, he saw her belly button. He eyed her legs up and down, she was muscled in a very nice way he felt. He licked his tusks as he was preparing to step towards her to release her from the old shirt. He noticed she was eyeing him up and down, and smiled at him as he noticed. "What is that? Am I not allowed to watch _you_?" she grinned. Suddenly a thought struck Garrosh hard.

"Wouldn't someone.. see us like this?" Sheyla seemed amused at that, and Garrosh wondered why. Surely it was quite shameful if someone found you and another standing semi-naked in a tight, barely enclosed space, with nothing but a few walls to hide from the curious glances.

"Did you forget which huts these are?" Sheyla said, a clear tone of amusement ever so present in her voice. And Garrosh understood now. The one to his right was Sheyla's own hut. She took a step towards her hut and gently placing her head on the wall, murmuring a few words Garrosh was not able to understand even from this short a distance. The shape of the wall shifted, leaving a gap just large enough to let Garrosh through, Sheyla of course would have less trouble as she stood somewhat shorter than he. Garrosh felt a strong urge to push her through the gap and to experience that of which the elder orcs had spoken so highly of in terms of pleasure and what they called 'a deeper meaning'.

He let his unconciousness control his body, and pushed Sheyla through the gap she had created earlier. He then feared she might not like what he just did to her, but she seemed to even take great pleasure in it after all. She clasped his face between her hands and crouched down so that he would come down with her onto some wolf pelts lying around on the floor, creating a place to sleep. The room's only light source was that of a few small braziers, reflecting on Sheyla's skin and making her look even more beautiful than she had done in the little alley. Garrosh now felt dizzy with wanting her. He didn't think he had ever desired something so much in his entire life. He licked his tusks, grasping her arms near her shoulders as he did so. He then pushed her down onto the pelts, now crouching on top of her and tore her shirt apart without much care in the process. Sheyla in turn moved to rip his other pants off just as violently as Garrosh had ripped her shirt off of her.

"I am not too keen on others destroying my things." she grinned. Garrosh smirked in return, yet not looking her in the eyes. He was too distracted by her breasts. He had learned from the previous few times that whatever his instincts told him to do to Sheyla was generally a good idea, as she liked what he had been doing so far. He secretly wished he had been paying more attention to the kinds of talks which explained the whole 'intercourse' 'courting' thing further now, but he nevertheless thought he could manage it. He ran his fingers along the sides of her breast, slowly moving them up to her nipple. As he started rubbing it, he heard her moan softly in pleasure, indicating that it had indeed been a good decision. He lowered his head down to them, his lower jaw touching them first, then his tusks and finally, his lower lip. He ran his lip along her nipple, making them wet with his saliva as he had licked his lips before. Gently feeling the texture of her breast and enjoying the warmth the rest of Sheyla's body brought. He pushed himself up from her a bit and glanced to the face of his soon-to-be mistress. He felt his stomach nearly ache from the feelings rushing through his body. It felt even sweeter than the blood lust he had grown to love, despite it nearly overtaking him during a battle sometimes. He wanted her now, not a moment later. As he lowered himself onto her, he kissed her again, sucking on her lips as he entered her for the first time in his life.


	2. Chapter I : A New Warchief of the Horde

.

**Garrosh's Reign**

Chapter I

_The New Warchief of the Horde_

_Disclaimer: "Oh, I know. Blizzard Entertainment gets all the credit, or the blame, I suppose, depending on your allegiance." Never the blame, Tyrion, never. I'll be sure to replace him with Fordring in the future._

* * *

Garrosh opened his eyes sheepishly, smiling to himself as he came to realize where he was. He remembered what had happened the day before very clear, and it felt good to wake next to someone else, he found. When he stretched his arm out to his left to touch her, however, he felt only the furs they had been sleeping on together. He sat up with a start, rapidly turning his head in search of her. But it was to no avail. She was gone and.. what time of day was it? It had been afternoon before, how long had he been sleeping?

Garrosh then remembered he was supposed to go to a council meeting with Warchief Thrall, and grunted in annoyance at the current situation. So not only had Sheyla disappeared, he now found himself behind on schedule, too.

With his eyelids still half closed, he crawled to the gap Sheyla had made in the wall of her hut to retrieve his clothing. Once in front of the place where the gap had been he saw that it, too, was gone. He almost started to panicked slightly at the thought of having to go out of the front to get his clothes back, but as he looked around for a solution he noticed his leather wear along with Gorehowl. The weapon was cashually leaning against the wall of the hut, only a few feet from where Garrosh had been sleeping earlier. As he crawled over to it, he noticed Sheyla had also put out a new pants for him, which looked like it had never been worn before and still maintained its white colour. He grinned to himself, perhaps she hadn't abandoned him after all. Perhaps she would show up sooner or later, meanwhile doing whatever it was that she was doing.

Once he was fully dressed again, Garrosh tucked Gorehowl underneath his belt, ready to walk out and depart for Orgrimmar.

"Here." whispered Sheyla, suddenly standing in front of him. She was holding a slice of meat and waved it around close to his face. It smelled like it was talbuk, very carefully cooked as it had no burn marks on it. Garrosh gratefully took the meat from her, glad he was able to taste talbuk again despite hating it in the past for having to eat it almost every single day.

"Thank you." he said, his voice sounding completely hoarse. As he took a large bite out of the meat, he studied Sheyla's body, eyeing it up and down. She was wearing shamanic ritual clothes, albeit not the same as the day before. Garrosh found himself enjoying the way she looked very much. Perhaps she could come with him to Azeroth, surely a shaman would be useful for the war effort as well.

"You have to leave." she suddenly said. "I thank you for your company, but you must go now." Garrosh couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd figured that she would want to talk to him, not send him away and pretending nothing ever happend. He shoved the last chuck of meat in his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed it wholly.

"Why?" he demanded, voice still hoarse.

"I was grieving. I would have taken anyone in yesterday. It meant nothing." Garrosh clenched his jaw. All he could do now was stare at her in disbelief. To his knowledge she had never done it before either. To simply brush it off and saying it meant nothing sounded utterly ridiculous. "You don't like me, Garrosh. Believe me, you don't. And I don't like you. We have nothing in common, and you are merely taken for a fool by the moment, letting your feelings of lust overtake you in your actions." Ah, perhaps she was right at that. He did feel the desire to do the same to her now as he did yesterday, despite everything. But that simple fact did not make her words sound any less insulting.

"You say that I have no control over my actions? I could have your tongue out for saying something the likes of that!" Sheyla crossed her arms, laughing at his words. A new sort of desire formed itself in Garrosh's mind; he wanted to beat this female for mocking him so. Insulting him like he was nothing more than a rat. As she noticed this new fire burning in his eyes, her jaw was set as she narrowed her eyes in a response. She was daring him to take a sudden and unthoughtful course of action, so it seemed.

"There are other females who can do the same for you as I have, there is no need for us to waste one more breath on oneanother." Garrosh groaned in both anger and sorrow, he decided it would indeed be best for him to leave before he could no longer compose himself. He walked his way around her, having no desire to stay for a moment longer. He stormed out of the hut, hoping Sheyla would yet excuse herself to him or anything like that, but she did nothing.

.

In spite of his newly found disdain for the female known as Sheyla, Garrosh had a difficult time trying not to think of her. He had even dreamt about her in nights past. Sometimes it was a dream where he would hold her close to his heart like he had when they had been together, and other times it was one where he would get to scream at her for reasons unknown when he woke up. He had an urge to attack her physically in dreams such as the latter, but was always unable to do so. Sometimes, the image of her was distracting him when he was performing things regarding the task he had been assigned to do: to lead the Horde in Thrall's absence. He wished she would go away and leave him be to perform his duties, but there was nothing he could do except trying to forget it all.

When one of his advisors, Eitrigg, had made mention of him appearing distracted, Garrosh regarded him with pure hostility. He did not want anyone to ever tell him he was not doing as he should be, interpreting he was bad at performing his duties. Garrosh wanted to prove he was a great leader, now more than ever. He wanted to live up to his father's name, making up for the needless shame he had felt about him most of his life.

When Cairne Bloodhoof had insulted him by accusing him of having some innocent druids ordered dead, he accepted the following challenge for a mak'gora without a shadow of a doubt. Garrosh had requested it be a duel to the death, as was previously traditional until Thrall had changed it, he deemed that a fitting punishment for those who would question his authority and his ability to lead. If Cairne wanted to try and take the Horde, Garrosh had thought, let him by all means try. He will not succeed.

Garrosh ensured victory, as he had been certain he would, but soon learned someone tainted his honour by poisoning his axe instead of giving it a blessing. He had been furious at Magatha Grimtotem, but decided someone else would have to end her life for him, as he had more important matters to attend to.

He had a great vision for the Horde, to restore it to its rightful glory and bring the Horde what it deserved to have: Kalimdor. He needed to rid himself of the night elves, so he had appointed the orc known as Krom'gar to supervise the operation in Stonetalon. He imagined they would be able to defeat the elves within a couple of months. Then they would have the forests to supply the Horde war machine on that front as well. The goblins were ordered to reshape the land of Azshara so that it would look like the Horde's symbol. All who would look upon the land would know the might of the Horde, never to question it.

But there was a certain someone who annoyed Garrosh greatly, even anger him at times. Vol'jin, the leader of the Darkspear trolls. The last conversation he had with the troll had filled him up with anger, barely able to restrain himself from killing that day.

_Vol'jin had come to Garrosh, telling him he disagreed with his decision to have troups send to the night elf lands. Garrosh was quite sick of telling this troll what to do, and him responding as he usually did, complete disagreeing with everything Garrosh said._

_"Vol'jin, you'd best make yourself useful. You are to send troups to Ashenvale to support our mission there. We need the raw materials, your job is then to secure those for the war effort." Vol'jin sighed deeply, not even trying to hide his annoyance._

_"Tha elves have been dere for longa than ya can even imagine, Garrosh. I will not have my people be part of a mass murder." Garrosh shot the troll a dirty look._

_"Don't talk back to me, troll. You know who was left in charge here. Haven't you stopped asking yourself why Thrall chose me instead of you?" said Garrosh, grinning wickedly._

_"Dere be no question why, Garrosh. He gave ya tha title because you be Grom's son and because tha people be wantin' a war hero. To which I tink ya be even more like ya father den he thought, even without ya havin' da demon blood." Garrosh grimaced at the insult. It took him every ounce of his being not to take a swing at the troll for speaking ill of his father. The nerve he had to say something like that! And to him for that matter!_

_"You are lucky I don't gut you right here whelp." he rumbled. "You are foolish to think that you can speak to your **Warchief** in such ways." He tightened his grip around Gorehowl's shaft, imagining the blade going through Vol'jin throat._

_"Ya be no Warchief of mine. Ya've not earned my respect and I'll not be seein' tha Horde destroyed by ya foolish thirst for war." Garrosh grunted. Vol'jin was deeming his neccesairy actions against the night elves 'foolish'. He knew he had been right about his kind all along now; they were useless, dishonourable and weak._

_"And what exactly do you think that you'll do about it?" Garrosh said, looking the troll right in his ugly face and grinned. Vol'jin narrowed his eyes at that, clasping his own weapon more tightly. "Your threats are hollow. Go slink away with the rest of your kind in the slums. I will endure your filth in my throne room no longer." In a way, Garrosh was glad he now had an excuse to be rid of Vol'jin. So far he had not done a single good thing for him, and wasn't required to win battles along with the other trolls. He had never been of use to the Horde, merely being there as Thrall's friend. But Thrall was their leader no longer, and the Horde could rid itself of its weak spots._

_"I know exactly what I'll be doin' about it, son of Hellscream. I'll be watchin' as ya people slowly become aware of ya ineptitude. I'll laugh as dey grow ta despise ya as I do. And when tha time comes dat ya failure is complete and ya 'power' is meaningless," rumbled the troll, mockingly speaking of his 'power'. "I will be dere to end ya rule, swiftly and silently. Ya will spend ya reign glancin' over ya shoulda and fearin' tha shadows, for when tha time comes and ya blood be slowly drainin' out, ya will know exactly who fired da arrow dat pierced ya black heart." Garrosh squeezed Gorehowl even more tightly now, once again feeling the blood lust calling to him and his mind telling him to kill the troll. So Vol'jin was planning on assasinating him from the shadows like a true coward, without ever having to face him in combat. No wonder, Vol'jin likely knew he was too weak to ever be able to defeat him in honourable combat. He was not afraid of this ugly troll or any of his kind, and nor would he ever be._

_"You have sealed your fate, troll." Garrosh spat at the troll's feet. He hoped he would get to face this troll on the battle field soon, so that he might rid himself once and for all from him._

_"And you yours, 'Warchief'." Vol'jin left the hold as Garrosh narrowed his eyes in anger, somehow hoping he would turn around and face him. And yet he knew that the troll's time would come, eventually. He was pathetic and old, what chance could he have against Garrosh?_

Garrosh grunted, kicking a box of supplies over as he strode towards his throne. He let himself drop into it without care, impatience filling his mind. He was not entirely sure what to do with the trolls on the Echo Isles just yet. Likely, they were all traitors to their Warchief, and had to be dealt with some day. For now, he would let them be. He had more important matters to turn his attention to than their pathetic race. Such as that damned dragon and his following, which were now threatening to destroy all of his hard work and indeed, the entire world. He had learned of the Twilight's Hammer cult who now mostly resided within the Twilight Highlands. He had already ordered for zeppelins to be flown there and conquer the land in the name of the Horde, but he felt he had to personally lead the campaign there.

"Eitrigg." he said, lifting his head to regard the orc who had been leaning over the table with maps displaying various regions of Azeroth, pretending to study them. Garrosh had known him to do that, as he also knew Eitrigg to be fully aware of Garrosh's plans and movements before he spent hours staring at maps. He was unsure as to why the old orc would do this, but he let him be for the time being. Without looking up immediately, Eitrigg responded.

"Yes, Warchief?" he said, tearing his gaze away from the maps to look at Garrosh, expression ever so obedient. At least Eitrigg knew to respect his Warchief and treat him with honour, unlike Vol'jin and even Cairne days before his death. Thrall had not appointed him for nothing, and Garrosh would make soon others learned of that.

"I am planning on joining the expedition into the Twilight Highlands, I trust you will be able to supervise Orgrimmar in my absence?" Eitrigg slowly stepped forward, looking older than he ever had to Garrosh in the light of the blaziers. In this light he could also make out a whole lot of scars running along his face and arms. His armor even looked like it was dragging Eitrigg further down than he was hunched of himself. Eitrigg slowly nodded, making a fist and thumping his chest in a salute, yet without straightening his back or making an attempt to do so.

"I have heard of some recent developements from within the campaign in Stonetalon Mountains, Warchief. I must say that I find them quite disturbing. With your permission."

"You have permission to speak your mind, Eitrigg. I value your counsel greatly." That Garrosh did. He had learned so much from war veterans such as Eitrigg, one of whom was Varok Saurfang, veteran of all three wars.

What Eitrigg had told him was indeed disturbing. Krom'gar was appearantly planning on disgracing him and the rest of the Horde, and had to be stopped before it got out of hand. Garrosh would not permit anyone to disgrace the Horde and all that it stood for. Battles were to be won by might, not cowardly flattening a village full of innocents by dropping a nuke on it. Krom'gar was planning on doing just that, and Garrosh could not wait to tear him apart for his actions.

.

Krom'gar's current whereabouts were at Cliffwalker Post, a small tauren settlement on a rise and not acessable by foot. Garrosh had learned of its High Chieftain. The village had been burned on the orders of Krom'gar, and the old Chieftain had already lost his wife and son as a result of Krom'gar's actions.

Garrosh was more furious than ever, learned that he had come near too late and had sorcerers called to him immediately. As Garrosh and his guards were transported via a spell from Orgrimmar to Cliffwalker Post, he heard an explosion in the place the portal was being created to, thus coming from the settlement. He knew what had happened now. Krom'gar had sealed his fate.

"What have you done, Krom'gar?" Garrosh rumbled, rather wanting to scream at him in molten fury but witheld himself from it. As he walked over to the pathetic excuse for an orc, Krom'gar ran over to meet him. He bowed down low for his Warchief, and spoke, fear clearly present in his voice.

"Warchief! I... I was carrying out.. your command!" Krom'gar swallowed, looking up to him with eyes that gave away more fear than his voice already had. Garrosh narrowed his eyes at him, thinking no more of him that a spider that needed to be squashed under his boot.

"My command?" grunted he. "Was it _my _command to murder innocents, Krom'gar?"

"Warchief... Sir... I..." he struggled, and if Garrosh was not mistaken, he saw his eyes water.

"Am I a murderer, Krom'gar?" Garrosh made no attempt at hiding his furiousness, his desire to throw this one off the cliff was immense.

"NO! Warchief!" He dragged the last syllable on for far too long as he nearly screamed, he was extremely anxious, that much was obvious. He knew what he was in for, and Garrosh knew in his heart he deserved it. He had betrayed him perhaps even more greatly than Cairne had. Instead of accusing him of murder, Krom'gar had been murdering in his name. He seized Gorehowl from the straps on his back and lifted the weapon so that Krom'gar would stare right at its razor sharp blade.

"Then I ask you again: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" Garrosh shouted furiously. Krom'gar cowered in fear at his Warchief. His whole body began to shake and he fell to his knees after having maintained a very deep bowing position over the entire course of their 'conversation'. "I sent you into Stonetalon Mountains with an army. Your orders were to secure this land for the Horde." Garrosh paused for a moment to crouch down and dare the other orc to look him in the eyes, baring his teeth at him. "Instead," he whispered. "you laid waste to the land. Murdered innocents. Children even..." He straightened himself again, signalling Krom'gar to do the same, who reluctantly obeyed. "I spent a very long time in Northrend, Krom'gar." Garrosh spoke, his voice no longer a whisper. "I learned much about the Horde in that time. While there, a wise old war hero told me something that I would carry with me forever..." He spoke of Varok Saurfang, a person he had shared much of his past with and entrusted him with important matters at any time. An orc with whom he had countless disagreements, but Saurfang always tried to be understanding and brought him counsel Garrosh valued greatly. He decided to quote Saurfang to Krom'gar, as he had been a great inspiration to Garrosh himself. "'Honor,' Krom'gar, 'No matter how dire the battle... never forsake it.'" Garrosh had decided to execute Krom'gar by the method of the first thought that had occured to him, and tucked Gorehowl away once again. "Overlord Krom'gar," he spoke in a most formal yet authorized tone. "you have disgraced the Horde. You have brought shame to us as a people. By my right as Warchief, I hereby relieve you of your duty." Garrosh seized Krom'gar by the throat and lifted him over the edge of the lift bridge they had been standing on. "YOU ARE DISMISSED!" Garrosh screamed as he casually let go of Krom'gar throat, dropping him to his doom. He even leaned over the edge to see it happen, to make sure this pathetic 'Overlord' had been dealt with once and for all for bringing such shame to him and his Horde. Krom'gar didn't even scream. Perhaps he had not expected it to happen after all, or maybe he had just accepted his fate. As Krom'gar's body hit the first mass of land, Garrosh saw his body splat open with a great force, hearing the statisfying sound of bones cracking. As he slid further down past the first rock formation, Krom'gar's body left behind masses of blood on them. His body bounced off and fell further down to the ground, already twisted is such a way that he must have been dead. A pity really, he had deserved a few extra seconds of agony. When he hit the lower ground, there was barely a sound to be heared all the way up the lift bridge. Garrosh only stared at the body a second longer, making sure it was completely still nontheless, and then turned towards the guards who had been standing beside Krom'gar. "And you!"

"Wait, Warchief! Please!" It was High Chieftain Cliffwalker himself, who had been kneeling down for as long as Garrosh had been present. "These were the heroes responsible for uncovering this corruption. They tried to stop Krom'gar!" So these guards must have also been responsible for bringing Garrosh news of this, then. "Have mercy, Warchief." pleaded the Chieftain. Garrosh eyes widened slightly in suprise of the word 'mercy' the Chieftain used.

"Mercy..." he said, sounding like he was questioning Cliffwalker. "Your wife and child were murdered. Your kin wiped out. Your home burned to the ground. Mercy..." Garrosh was amazed at Cliffwalkers spirit, truly dumbfounded, and he had such admiration for the old tauren Chieftain. "Chieftain, on this day I learn from you." Garrosh regarded the Chieftain with a kind smile, this truly was a tauren who held himself in great honour, more than rightfully so. He then turned to Krom'gar's Generals, or whatever they had been in his army. "Krom'gar's army is no more. Your rank no longer has meaning." Garrosh had no desire to appoint whoever Krom'gar allowed to rise to power among his ranks for whatever reason. "If you truly wish to help the Horde, your considerable power could be used elsewhere. The choice is yours to make. Let honour guide you, and do not forget that Hellscream's eyes are always upon you." And with one last salute to High Chieftain Cliffwalker, Garrosh returned to his guards to be taken back to Grommash Hold. He had a lot of planning to do before he would depart for the Twilight Highlands.

* * *

_A/N: This was more of a catching up kind of chapter, I apologize for using a lot of in-game conversations in this one. I am also aware I left out Garrosh's talk with Sylvanas, but I intend for that to be used elsewhere._

_Hope you enjoyed it nevertheless!_


	3. Chapter II : The Realm of Twilight

.

**Garrosh's Reign**

Chapter II

_The Realm of Twilight_

_Disclaimer: *Tirion Fordring casually makes his entrance onto the stage* "Put your faith in Blizzard, and all is possible. The time to end the disclaimer... is now!" *casually leaves the stage to make way for Lady Author*_

_A/N: I apologize in advance for the seeminly rushed chapter. I need to move through the Twilight Highlands at a rather fast pace because it's difficult for me to summon a lot of inspiration for this._

* * *

Sheyla sat silently at the bank of a lake in Nagrand. She let her fingers glide through the waters, trying to make sense of it all. How could it be that this had happened to her? She had never cared much for Garrosh Hellscream, the only thing she really remembered of him was that he had been a depressed militairy leader. The last time she saw him she had made a ridiculously stupid decision, she was very aware of that at least.

She felt so deeply insulted at the fact that Garrosh had never stood up to her then and there and immediately ask her to be his mate. He was an orc without honour to her now, for he had stupidly agreed to her request that night and never planned for anything other than that himself. She realized this before both of them had fallen asleep. Garrosh said nothing, just nothing. She could not forgive him for that, not ever.

Despite herself being stricken by sorrow and seeking a way to release herself of the pain which stung in her heart, he himself had seemed almost happy. Sure, his expression would tell others that he was as saddened as they had been, but the way he carried himself told a different story. The way he had acted around Sheyla in itself had been enough to make her realize that he had no idea how sad she had really been. She wondered if he cared at all for the part of their kin who had not survived the war against the Scourge.

If he did not, he was the most disgusting orc on the face of their planet. How could he care so little for his brothers and sisters of the Mag'har clan? Perhaps he was doing things merely for his own benefit, for the cause he thought was the right one.

She tore her gaze away from the water and pressed her slightly wet hand to her stomach. As she stared at the furthest possible place she could still see, she thought of how foolish she had been to let her grief overtake her. She would not have it, Garrosh would not know of this. She hadn't told anyone about that night, and if anyone valued their face in its current state, they would not ask her about the father of her child either.

.

The Warchief frowned as he saw small goblins running around on the decks of his warfleet ships as they quickly made some ajustments to things Garrosh did not care about. He carried himself with pride as he stepped on board of one of those ships. _Let the Twilight's Hammer come, _he thought. _We will be ready for them._

As the ships took to the skies of Azshara, Garrosh walked over to the front of the thing. He slid the palm of his hand across Gorehowl's sharp blade once again, smiling as he thought of the bodies it would soon get to feast upon. Garrosh lusted for a good battle himself. The few months he had spent planning had finally come to an end, the Horde was now ready to engage in battle with two of their most hated enemies: the Twilight's Hammer cult and the Alliance. Garrosh had been filled with delight when he had been informed the Alliance were planning on taking the Twilight Highlands themselves. He had hoped their leaders would be foolish enough to meet his Horde in battle somewhere. If Garrosh was in luck, King Wrynn might just show his ugly face around so Garrosh could finish him as he had wanted to do in Dalaran and in Theramore.

The skies were completely open as they fleet flew onwards. The sun shone its light brightly and Garrosh felt the wind beating at the fur which was sticking out of his armour in a few places. He took a deep breath of air, only now realizing that he had been in Orgrimmar for so long he had become used to the lack of fresh air. In the streets of Orgrimmar it mostly reeked of production, in nearly every form one could find it: blacksmithing, construction, engineering and so on.

He turned to look at the deck of the ship next to his own. One of the Kor'kron was looking at a few goblins next to him who were actively steering the ship. Despite the orc's supposed boredom, Garrosh could see that he was aching for a move to be made. As the fleet started flying in closer formation due to them approaching the broken Thandol Span, Garrosh sighed deeply. Not much was happening overall, which was quite disappointing to say-

Suddenly, something **did **happen. A zeppelin was flying way too low. Captain Krazz, the goblin in charge of getting everyone to the Highlands in one piece, was shouting order at it but to no avail. The ship crashed into the Thandol Span with great force. Garrosh looked away, annoyed at the fact someone might notice them now, able to track their every move. He decided it was time for an encouraging speech, so that his warriors would no longer be distracted by the ship they had lost.

He cleared his throat and spoke loud, so everyone could hear. "Fellow warriors of the Horde, hear me now!" The heads of the Kor'kron turned as one to their Warchief, listening eagerly as he continued speaking. "Ahead hides our foe. Worshippers of chaos who seek to remake the world. A new world is coming, friends. But it is not the world of their design. Together, we will crush the Twilight's Hammer, raze their stronghold, salt the earth, and burn the bodies so they may never rise again! All will tremble at the might of our Horde! Then we will stand astride this world as its masters – united in our conviction, unrivaled in strength, beholden to no one. Today, **we **will remake the world. **Our **world. For honour, and for the Horde! Lok'tar ogar!" Loud cries burst forth from the fleet, and Garrosh added his own warcry to them. He felt his ship tremble slightly as he had opened his jaw as far as he could. He knew his warcry to sound like his father's, a sound so great it felt earsplitting to most. As they fell silent once more, Garrosh noticed something in the distance. A Kor'kron next to him was already peering through a spyglass, and Garrosh noted he was smirking. "What is it?" he asked.

"Dwarves." the orc said, now starting to laugh. "And an Alliance naval fleet in the port below." Garrosh's heart leaped – this opportunity was almost too perfect to simply let it pass by. _The Alliance will never know what hit them._

"The Alliance steams in close formation without escort. Air guard, attack! Strafe them now, while they cannot maneuver!" Garrosh laughed as he saw the air support fly off to where the Alliance were to swiftly rid the world of them. He noticed goblins trying to hide their panic as they ordered the fleet into a defensive formation. Not that it would make any difference, the Alliance were too weak to strike out against them now.

As if Alliance hadn't been enough, the sky suddenly filled itself with Twilight dragons, casting a great shadow over the entire warfleet.

"Deathwing.." the Kor'kron who had been holding a spyglass earlier whispered as he saw the massive Aspect of Death leading the Twilight flight. Deathwing however, quickly flew off, as his brood had started attacking the Horde's warfleet.

"It's an attack!" one of the Kor'kron Air Marine yelled, rapidly shouting orders at bystanders. Garrosh immediately came to regret his decision to order away his close air support. He knew now that he had made a tactically terrible decision, and he would come to regret it even more than he already did at this point. Garrosh stood his ground as best he could on his ship, grunting as he realized there was barely any space for him to move around. Then he saw it: a massive beast of a dragon coming right towards him. It was like a sea of purple, completely blocking Garrosh's field of sight. It latched hold of Garrosh's airship, which was shaking violently as the beast nearly colided with it. Garrosh roared at it in his molten fury.

"GET OFF MY SHIP!" he shouted, wildly wacking away at the beast with his axe. He felt the heat of the dragon's fiery breath in his whole body, shortly thereafter he realized his ship was set ablaze. Gorehowl shrieked as it rapidly swung through the air with a sound which had earned it its name when Grom Hellscream had been wielding it. Garrosh sounded his warcry once more, grinding his teeth at the dragon as soon as he was done, swiftly dodging its otherwise fatal bite attacks.

Even as Gorehowl bit deep into the flesh of the dragon's head, nearly tearing its horn off, the beast still would not let go of its hold of Garrosh's ship. Swiftly pulling the axe out, Garrosh readied himself to strike another time. He was determined to end this once and for all. The spiteful creature roared in agony as Gorehowl struck it right in the head once more, biting deep into the dragon's flesh and blood sprayed all over Garrosh's body, soaking him.

Garrosh drew himself to his full imposing heigh and gathered all his strength to land a fatal attack onto the dragon. With one last mightly blow the beast finally let go of the ship and fell to the seas below, as it had been severly wounded by Gorehowl and seemingly a few turrents of other ships. It had been a powerful creature indeed. Garrosh found himself wet with the dragon's foul blood, but then rapidly having to grab a hold of something as his ship drove to the seas right after the dragon.

The fires were buring immensely, right next to Garrosh as he struggled to hold onto his warship. _This is not.. this can't be.. _he thought to himself as he felt the heat of the fires now burning into his flesh. Smoke was filling his lungs despite the speed at which the zeppelin was going down. _It cannot end now, I must- _he thought hopelessly. He knew that there was nothing he could do.. Absolutely nothing.. He was doomed, he had failed himself. He had failed his people.. _My failure.. the Horde.. I- _He burst into uncontrollable coughing, oddly reminding him of a time when he had been sick with the decease known as red pox, nearly having to let go of what seemed like the only solid thing in the world to him. And then Garrosh knew only blackness and the sweet release of the fiery torment as he felt a sudden cooling sensation fill his body, quickly slipping into a calming stupor.

.

Garrosh awoke with a start. His body felt as if it wasn't his in the first few seconds, he was completely unable to move. He only saw the silhouetes of the ones trying to help him up as he struggled to open his eyes. He suddenly felt his body was completely responsive as he started coughing up the water which had fillen his lungs. He was amazed he was still alive at this point, recalling the blackness he had seen and the coldness he felt as a sign that he was slipping away. But he hadn't, and it felt good. He would lead the Horde to glory and- He noted that the voices he heard were unfamiliar. He had been sure he knew all who had been on the ships most close to his own, and surely he heard one familiar voice, but who were the others? He opened his eyes fully now, to see who had been so kind to help him, saving his life at any rate. He gazed upon a familiar looking tauren and an orc with an unusual dark skin. One of the Dragonmaw clan, that was for sure. The orc saluted him, and the tauren started telling Garrosh of the event that had transpired after the Horde had taken this part of the beach he now found himself on.

The Dragonmaw told him of their false Warchief, Mor'ghor, a fel orc from Outland who had taken their clan for himself. He had been a member of their clan, once. But now, he reeked of demon blood and was a traitor to his kind, unfit to lead, leading whatever remained of the once-proud Dragonmaw clan to ruin. Garrosh felt a desire boiling up inside him to raze their city to the ground. He despised the demons more than others could even imagine, if Greatmother Geyah hadn't been the one to learn him of that than surely everything that had happened to his legendary father had done the trick.

As soon as Garrosh arrived at the village, the tauren ran off to meet with a few Overseers. No sooner had Garrosh arrived, or more of the Dragonmaw orcs arrived to meet him. One in particular sparked his interest. It was a female, standing slightly higher than was usual for female orcs and was about as tall as some of the Kor'kron. Her body showed she was powerful and her eyes were filled with pride. She was also bloodied, albeit her own blood or that of another, possibly both. She introduced herself as Warlord Zaela, and told Garrosh of the recent death of her clan's false Warchief. Garrosh couldn't help but smirk, knowing that another one of those wretched demon ridden creatures had been dealt with. Zaela and her Dragonmaw pledged their loyalty to Garrosh and to the Horde, immediatly pleasing him with what had been achieved in his absence.

One thing still troubled Garrosh despite everything; how did the Twilight dragons knew exactly where and when to strike at their airfleet? It is as if they knew their plans. He soon figured there must be spies for the Twilight's Hammer among his own ranks, cowering behind their false identities and thus not daring to reveal themselves. He ordered part of his troups to secure the front while he himself planned on taking one of the remaining ships of his now-crushed airfleet back to Orgrimmar to find out more about the spies and more specificallly who had been betraying him.

After repeatedly searching the city for clues for a few days, along with as much guards as he could find whom he felt were trustworthy, Garrosh came to suspect one of the most unlikeliest of people: Sauranok the Mystic. The shaman was one of his most trusted advisors, perhaps even his most trusted one. He had been with him when he was leading the Warsong Offensive in Northrend, even then he had been advising him alongside Saurfang. Now, he was advising Garrosh mostly alongside Eitrigg as Garrosh and Vol'jin could not work alongside one another any longer.

After some more investigations, Garrosh found that he had been right, to his own regret. He had sent someone to the docks to investigate and had told the shaman of this afterwards. He had foolishly revealed himself, drawn to the beat Garrosh had set for him like a moth to the flame. He found that Sauranok had been leading the Twilight's Hammer cult inside of Orgrimmar – inside of his own walls! Perhaps the shaman's visions had worked against him, the Twilight's Hammer probably corrupting him from afar. Still, these thoughts rang of weakness to Garrosh. Weakness and nothing but that. He forbade anyone to speak of Sauranok any more, no one would be allowed to even do as much as mention his name. He would not want to be reminded of the horrible crimes the shaman had now commited against him. He was dead now, and mattered no more. All that mattered now was what would happen in the Twilight Highlands, although Garrosh was certain the Horde would be victorious.

.

The construction of Dragonmaw Port had been a fast one. The Horde's power was completely unquestionable, and the Twilight Highlands would soon be theirs. Deathwing's forces would bleed out every last drop of their blood as soon as the Horde was done with them. The Wildhammer dwarves would also soon be brushed off the map by the might of the Horde. Looking very pleased was Warlord Zaela, folding her arms against her chest as she watched the battle on the shoreline. A bunch of cannonshots here and there, dead bodies laying around and it made the beach look anything but the peaceful place it had once been. Not that Zaela cared much, she knew that they would have to crush their enemies to retake their homeland.

The Horde was winning._ Good_. She expected no less of them after what Warchief Garrosh had promised her and her people. Even despite his promises and the proof that they were true playing out right before her eyes, Zaela had known all along she had made the right decision by allying with the Horde's forces. As soon as she had laid eyes upon their new Warchief, she knew all she had to know about him and the Horde as it was today. Even despite nearly having his body torn apart by a dragon and a crash into the sea and afterwards nearly drowning, from all Zaela had heard, he was still imposing and a leader and a fighter to his very core. He had certainly impressed her, now oddly reminding herself of him as she shouted a few orders to nearby Dragonmaw.

She felt no need to engage any further in this battle than she already had. The Horde had made this battle against their new opponent, the Alliance, seem pathetic. They crushed what little Alliance were attacking them on the beach with such ease and such strength, Zaela did not feel that she was needed on the front lines. She would save her strength for a battle more to her own taste, against a worthier opponent. Perhaps even as strong as Mor'ghor had been, that would certainly make do. Zaela grinned widely at the though of it, baring her tusks as she bit her bottom lip. She knew she would get to face off against the Twilight dragonflight soon, and ached for that battle to occur. She would show them why her clan was named the Dragonmaw clan sooner rather than later, and bring glory to her clan and to the Horde by winning that battle. _For honour, and for the Horde._

* * *

_A/N: In the next chapter I might skip the rest of what happens in the Twilight Highlands as I don't see how all of that is really relevant to the story. Just know that it happened and we'll move on from that! :) (perhaps I might make use of a flashback or two, who knows)_


	4. Chapter III : Dear Zaela

.

**Garrosh's Reign**

Chapter III

_Dear Zaela_

_Disclaimer: "The end of the author draws near, if she does not credit Blizzard as the rightful owners of this universe." -Tirion Fordring.  
"Wise words." -Thrall  
"Words of a fool, you mean. The author will reign supreme!" -Garrosh Hellscream, just being on my side because I have the power to make him into a female goblin with pink bunny ears, hopping around on a pogo stick.  
Most of the characters within my story are created and rightfully owned by Blizzard Entertainment.. Activision Blizzard.. something something Blizzard._

_A/N: My disclaimers seem to have this recurring theme of "we're pretending to belong in a humor/parody story". Interesting. I'm totally following advice I read somewhere though, I had to be original. As appearanlty, disclaimers are required (although I don't think Blizzard feels that way) or are at least nice to put there, as it shows respect(?). Well, anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. It took me WEEKS to write this one down, or at least it felt like weeks. Not that I didn't what this chapter to occur, I just had trouble with it is all. I wanted this chapter very much, considering the way I plan for the story to progress._

* * *

After she had heard of a dragon trying to unmake the planet known as Azeroth, Sheyla had thought the orc who had informed them of this completely mad. But after more arrived with tales of the same dragon, she had no choice but to believe it. She had been doing some thinking on the matter, and she felt that she had to aid the people trying to keep Azeroth the way it was. It was not a good thing to have two planets like Draenor in its current state, that much was certain. She heard of a group known as the Earthen Ring, they were shamans indeed trying to preserve the world as it was. That would be her destination, wherever they might be.

She knew she would dislike Azeroth before even having set a foot on that planet. Every orc who came back from that wretched place to Nagrand was either dead or completely battle-scarred. She would for now only tell the Greatmother that she had to go, without mentioning a place or even a person. Most would not be bothered much by activeties on Azeroth, to Sheyla's own shame.

And then there was that other thing which could keep her from doing what she felt she had to. She found out that after her small tryst with Garrosh Hellscream, she was carrying his child. She was not looking forward to him finding out about this, she thought him too weak to even care for a child after that night. She would not tell him, and she could only pray that no one would figure out who the father of her child was. No one would dare ask her, that much she felt sure of.

Sheyla would leave for Azeroth and aid the Earthen Ring as a shaman, hopefully without too much complications.

.

Leaving part of the Twilight Highlands for the Earthen Ring to deal with, the Horde was not yet done securing the bit they deemed fit for themselves. The Dragonmaw fought fiercely, as if they had never been apart from the Horde, and thus had always been brothers and sisters in arms. Zaela was pleased with this result, the way her brethren got along with those who had been loyal to the Horde for years. She had known her clan to be as honourable as most of the various races and orcish clans within the Horde, and had expected those to behave and act exactly as they did now. Apart from their Warchief, as he had even exceeded her expectations. A powerful and strong-minded leader was what the Dragonmaw clan needed. Someone who would make the right decisions and had great plans for the future, all qualities which Warchief Garrosh possessed. The unsure times had passed for them, no longer having a questionable leader or indeed, a demon-ridden one.

As the battle had moved farther inlands, the Dragonmaw could use their knowledge of the landscape to their advantage. Zaela showed a few Generals where the best places to strike were on the map, as the battle was raging on nearby them. The delicious clashing of steel and the screams of agony from the throats of the enemy were a very common sound. Not only were they fighting the Alliance here, but there were also quite a few dragons nearby. A few of her clan had gone out to bring back some dragonheads earlier, but Zaela wanted more than that. Much more, in fact. She hungered for a good fight, having stood in one place for a few hours was annoying her to her very core.

As soon as she was done with the Generals, she ran over to a partly burned forest which the dragons had made their temporary residence. She spotted a few easy targets to her left on top of a small hill. Three young black drakes, two sleeping and one sitting around looking as bored as Zaela had done whilst she was having an audience with the Generals. She signalled a few snipers to make those drakes their targets, and hinted a few shaman to a few of the burning trees which would be within their reach as soon as those drakes were out of the way. They would need to preserve as much land as they possibly could if they were to survive here. Before long, Zaela was joined by the forces she had been counting on: the lot coming from Orgrimmar. She was slightly surprised to see the Warchief among them as this was a mere precaution, but was nevertheless grateful for his time.

"All is well in Orgrimmar, I presume?" she whispered to him as he now stood beside her while she was still crouching low in the knee-high grass. He crouched down as well and signalled a few Kor'kron to cover the flanks, the rest either standing ready to charge or were covering the rear. They obeyed his command without question, doing as they were bid and standing ready to strike at whatever would be foolish enough to attack them. The Warchief nodded at her, smiling wickedly. She had a good idea of what happened in Orgrimmar now, Garrosh must've been wiping out any trace left of the Twilight's Hammer cult in his city. She mimicked his own smile in response.

"Tell me of your plans, Warlord." he said. Zaela eagerly told him of her plans to retake every bit of territory lost to the dragons and wiping the dwarves who still resided in the Highlands out, the Warchief looking very pleased as she spoke. She spoke of this with a fanatic tone in her voice, all whilst lusting for the battle which was about to occur.

"Very well," he said in a deep voice, having stopped his whispering. "Let us begin." Zaela gave her Dragonmaw Commander a nod, who shouted a quick order and the earth immediately began to shake under the feet of the charging orcs. She shouted her battle cry, the Warchief doing likewise. It was quite a sound, perhaps even a more ear-splitting one than if the target had indeed been the Horde's most hated enemy. _Hellscream indeed, _she mused as she swung her weapon at the first drake rushing at her to meet her in battle.

.

In the heat of the battle against the dragons, Garrosh found himself rather enjoying looking at Zaela as she hacked a few drakes to pieces. He quickly rid himself of the one in front of him by slicing its neck so that he could watch her some more. He smiled, his head filling up with lustful thoughts as he was watching the swift and cunning female. It only took her a minute to hack through the three drakes in front of her, rapidly dodging their breaths, maws and sharp claws as the battle around her raged on. Then she noticed Garrosh smiling at her, a look of surprise striking her face, but quickly to be replaced with a smile in return. Garrosh grunted softly, now slightly annoyed there were still some drakes left, whereas before he wished there had been more. No matter, he would get to spend time with her as he saw fit later, after these mongrels had been dealt with.

.

After they had conquered the dragons' previous residence, Zaela came running to meet her Warchief. She was panting only slightly, still perfectly able to speak as she did regularly. As she watched the Kor'kron leave, Zaela heard Garrosh dismiss one of her own Commanders who took the rest of the Dragonmaw with him, back to their encampment. She looked a bit confused at the scene in front of her, but was not about to question her new leader. She approached him slowly, having stopped to run as soon as her warrior passed her.

"What is it?" she asked as soon as she had reached Garrosh's side, her voice sounding more softly than she would have liked it to be. In response, the Warchief smiled at her, revealing his tusks and the teeth of his lower jaw for the most part.

"Nothing that matters." he said as softly as she had before. He reached his hand up to touch her cheek, and Zaela shivered at his touch. She was confused, and yet she felt her body temperature rise slightly as he began stroking her cheek softly. The stroking turned into rubbing, so her cheek would turn a darker green. As if she hadn't been blushing already, Garrosh took her face in his hands and moved her closer to his own.

Zaela wasn't at all sure how to respond to this, as she had never really felt this way before. She had always rid herself of males in front of her trying to pull a stunt like this. But now.. it felt right to her. She knew had the strength and cunning males desired, and yet she could never view herself as a desirable mother. She grunted at the thought of having one of those little brats run around, slightly surprising Garrosh as she had forgotten he was there for a moment.

She smiled and reached to touch one of his hands resting on her cheek. She felt a desire form in her body, hoping the Warchief would act sooner rather than later.

"Yes.. I will enjoy this.." he muttered softly to her lips just before he pressed them to his own. He had used his own philosophy for Zaela; if she was strong and ferocious in the battlefield, then surely she had to be the same way during 'mating sessions'. There was only one way to find out. She was also one Garrosh knew wouldn't lash out against him. If he had to pick a mistress, then let it be one who didn't possess the power to seduce him or have any kind of hold over him. Zaela would be perfect, he had been attracted to her strengths from the moment he met her. To see her fight those dragons with such hatred had boiled up Garrosh's hidden desires for her.

This place would do fine. He would pick a more comfortable place for the next time, when he had more time on his hands than he currently possessed. He forcefully pushed Zaela down to the scorched earth, gripping her wrists as he forced himself onto her. He swore under his breath when he realized he had taken a course of action without bearing it much thought first: both were still wearing their armor. He sat up on her lap and made no show of it as he quickly deprived himself of his armor. When he looked down at Zaela, he saw to his own pleasure she had already taken off most of her own armor. Garrosh felt his trousers tighten as he started to feel aroused by the sight of her naked form, licking his lips in his desire for her.

As he pushed her flat against the earth once again, he deliberately didn't meet her eyes. But he knew she was looking straight at him, looking for his gaze to meet her own. He wouldn't give her that pleasure, as he found it more desirable to think of this as merely a one-time thing. Perhaps this was more, but he wasn't very sure of that just yet, and much preferred to give himself some time to think this through. As he slowly forced himself onto her, he brushed the side of her head with his cheek, adoring the stench of blood that was about her and taking a deep breath to fill his nose with her smell. He felt her nails digging into his back as he started moving faster, drinking in her soft moans of pleasure. She wrapped her legs around his hips as she buried her nails even further into his back, violently scratching him as she held him ever so tightly.

Her heart had been racing from the moment he touched her so sweetly. She had never known anyone to take such interest in her, especially in the way he did. Deep down, Zaela had always been curious as to what it must feel like to have a man overpower you, both physically and emotionally. Normally she would have protested, fought whoever would try to take her off when they would seek to overpower her. With the Warchief, she did nothing of the sorts. Instead she clung to him as if he was the only solid thing in the world, enjoying every moment of their time together. She had imagined it would have been more brutal, more painful. She tried to provoke such behaviour from him by hurting him during their intercourse, but he didn't change. No matter, this worked perfectly for her. She did not know what she was doing, so instead she let Garrosh do whatever he desired and merely enjoyed the moment herself. He felt so powerful, Zaela knew she wouldn't be the one to end it if she so desired. She felt his rapid breaths touch her neck as he started to thrust more slowly yet with more force than he had done before. She felt a great sensation in her abdomen which made her feel as if she was about to explode. Just before she could, the Warchief stopped, resting his head on her breast as he let out rapid and heavy breaths. He still had his hands near her head, having used them to push himself from the ground earlier. She had hoped he would reach to touch her again, instead he pushed himself away from her and reached out to help her stand up. She gratefully took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. She clung to his arm for a moment, until he grasped her hand and slowly slid it off his arm. When he let go of her, he looked her straight in the eye with a weak smile on his lips and his expression hard.

"Not a word. Not a word to anyone, do you understand?" he said, his voice sounding as if he was issuing a command. Zaela was a bit surprised at first, but she didn't care much about it. If Garrosh didn't want anyone to know, then so be it.

"Yes, Warchief." she said, nodding slightly at him as she looked straight at him. He gave her a weak smile once again and proceeded to gather his things, getting dressed once more. Zaela did likewise, secretly wondering what Garrosh really thought about her. One thing she knew at least, he must have a great deal of respect for her for doing what he did. The kind of respect she desired to receive from others. _It could have been a thousand others- but it was me._

.

The next few meetings with the Warchief had felt awkward to Zaela, as he displayed no sign of what had transpired or at least some sort of acknowledgement of her service to him. But then she realized she should not look for a deeper meaning in it, merely sealing their bonds as allies if you will. She had plenty of opportunities to still her hunger for battle, and that all thanks to the Warchief who would lead her people to glory and bring them honour. The Warchief had a great vision for the Horde; Kalimdor would one day fully be theirs and they would take their rightful place in the world. Zaela had told him that the other races of the Horde each displayed their own weakness, and his new advisor had agreed with her on several occasions. But Garrosh insisted that they were required and that they also each had their specialties, albeit some of the faction leaders had sparked distrust in Garrosh. Zaela knew of the troll Vol'jin, as Garrosh's new advisor Malkorok had told her much about him and his foolish disobedience of the Warchief's commands.

But now there were more pressing matters for most to handle, as Deathwing and his following threatened to destroy their world and what the Horde had worked so hard to achieve. That dragon's head would make a fine trophy for her clan, but as there was also a demand for attention for territories to be defended, she could not see to it that the dragon would lose its head herself. Not that it mattered much, the future of the Horde was more important. She just hoped that the Earthen Ring would not show a lack of commitment and that they would succeed in whatever they were doing. At first, she thought that the former Warchief known as Thrall would return and that Garrosh would have to step down, but Malkorok had ensured her he had succeeded in convincing the Warchief that Thrall would never be able to bring the orcs what they deserved. She had smirked at the Blackrock orc, admiring his talent in oratory. She prayed to the ancestors that he spoke true, for she would not look forward to following the Alliance-slave to whatever tea party-times he might lead them.

"From what I have heard and seen of the orc, he is not fit to be a leader. Sure, he might have rallied the orcs and freed them from the internment camps, but not without the help of Grom Hellscream and Orgrim Doomhammer. And I don't count recruiting trolls and tauren as a big accomplishment. The Forsaken came themselves for the most part and invited the blood elves, the goblins.. Well, at least they make us some good machines.." Malkorok chuckled darkly at his own comment as he took a large gulp from his wine. "More importantly, Warlord, Thrall has failed to destroy his enemies." He reached out with his cup to her own to clang them together. Zaela smirked at that, as she knew exactly what Malkorok was referring to.

"Aye, that is true. But seeing as we're now sitting here, drinking fine wine together, that is a good thing I feel."

"And we now have a Warchief who understands the importance of seeking to rid the world of the Alliance. I was disgusted to say the least, when I heard that Thrall had some 'secret' meetings with Lady Proudmoore." Zaela's face wore an expression of deep disgust at the thought of that, and Malkorok did likewise. "Ah, I'm sure you can imagine why, judging by the look on your face. Garrosh will show us no such betrayals, or the kind of dishonour Thrall has brought to us as a race by inviting a human to his chamber."

"I would count inviting the troll to the same violation." Malkorok let out a barking laugh.

"It would seem that you and I are on the same line, Warlord. Once the Warchief promotes me, we can make some plans of our own to rid the Horde of its _weak spots_, what do you say?" Zaela nodded at the orc, wishing that the day that would happen would come soon. With a slight wink at Zaela, Malkorok drank the last of his wine in but a few gulps. "I'm sorry to leave you so soon, but there are some matters which require my attention. I look forward to our next meeting, Zaela." She gave him an acknowledging nod, and watched him leave the chamber. _If our Warchief doesn't have great plans for you, then surely I will._


End file.
